Son of a Killer
by YouLookLikeFOOD
Summary: This son of a killer will be a killer. It's the kind of thinking Blake's fought against for nineteen years. But his father is not convinced. Rated T for Violence and Launguage.
1. Blake

"It's _his?_"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

"Of course! There's no way it's _not!_"

"I don't _believe _this!"

"What are we going to do?"

"Isn't it obvious? We have to get rid of it!"

"No! He's my _son!_"

"He's the son of that _thing, _Alyssa!"

"I don't care, Andrew! He's my son, too!"

"We can't let him live, you understand? We can't let him be _born!_"

"Why? Because of his _father?_"

"Exactly! The son of a killer will _be _a killer!"

"So all people like that have no hope? People like _us, _Andrew?"

"No! You _know _what I mean!"

"No, I don't!"

"Abilities are genetic, Lyss. They're _inherited. _What happens if he's born with the father's ability?"

"But what if he's _not? _Did you ever think of _that? _What if he's born with _mine?_"

"It's highly unlikely, Alyssa!"

"Why?"

"Because… Because _he's _the father. And _his _father had the same ability. They're all killers!"

"I don't care! He might be Sylar's child, but he's mine, too!"

* * *

**Nineteen Years Later. **

The dream had haunted Blake for most of his life.

Every time, he'd find his mother dead on the ground, the top of her head gone. There would be blood everywhere, covering the area.

And covering his hands.

Every time, he'd force himself to look and see if he was the murderer. And, each and every time, he was.

So, when the reality came, it was much worse.

He entered the room to find his mother dead on the floor. Blood ran everywhere.

His breath caught in his throat and tears sprang to his eyes. He would have looked at his hands to see if the blood was there as well, but something stopped him.

Or rather, some_one_.

The air rushed out of his lungs as he was forced against the wall. He tried desperately to get away, but he simply couldn't move.

"It was a shame, really." A dark figure emerged from the shadows. "I actually liked her."

Blake glared at him.

"But…" The man continued. "In nineteen years, I couldn't find someone with her ability. So, naturally, I had to come back." He sighed. "I was rather hoping her black hole-creating brother would show up. Instead, I get you." He stopped in front of Blake, one finger raised level with his forehead.

"Now. Do you have an ability?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Naturally."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Well. That was easy. Usually, I have to pry it out of someone." He shrugged, lowering his hand as he realized he no longer needed it to torture someone who was offering the information he wanted willingly. "What is it?"

Blake sighed. "Nothing you need, Sylar. Believe me."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Right. You know my name, which means she told you about me." He gestured to Alyssa's body on the floor, bringing a wave of bile to Blake's throat at how casually he handled the murder. "Meaning, you are either a close friend, or family."

Blake tried to nod. "Family."

"Which explains why you have an ability." Sylar nodded approvingly. "But that brings back the question of what your ability _is._"

Blake said nothing.

Sylar smirked. "Fine. Have it your way." He raised the finger to his forehead again.

Blake rolled his eyes. "You don't scare me, Sylar."

"Why?" Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Because you can't die, perhaps?"

Blake snorted. "No. I can die."

Sylar smiled. "Well, then."

He sighed. "I know how things work. Just like you." He tried to shrug. "I inherited it from my father."

Sylar rolled his eyes and released him, sending Blake to the floor, where he landed expertly. "Well, if that's it, then I have no use for you."

But there was something in his eyes. Faint, hidden well, but definitely there.

The tiniest glimmer of panic.

Blake smiled as he noticed it.

"Was she your mother?" Sylar asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

Blake nodded.

Sylar's breath caught in his throat, and Blake practically see Sylar counting back the years, trying to figure out if maybe, just maybe, it was possible.

Finally, he looked at Blake. "How old are you?"

Blake pretended to act innocent, though inside he was laughing. Sylar had never truly known about the woman he'd just killed. "Nineteen. Why?"

True fear raced through Sylar's eyes. "N-Nineteen?"

Blake nodded.

Sylar swallowed. "Impossible…" He breathed.

"What?"

Sylar gripped Blake's shoulders. Terror was racing through his eyes. "Do you know who your father is? _Do you know?_"

Suddenly, Blake grinned. "Of course, Sylar."

"_WHO?_"

The smile on Blake's face turned dark. "You, Sylar. You are my father."

* * *

Sylar was still sitting on the couch that he'd stumbled into at Blake's revelation.

Blake was carefully lifting his mother's body from the floor. He swallowed. "She needs her brain back, asshole."

Sylar sighed. "It's in the other room."

Blake flinched, unsure if he could handle that. "I'll… get it in a second…" He whispered, trying to clear up his mother's blood from around her face.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "How are you _my _son?"

Blake glared at him. "The son of a killer isn't always a killer." He shot back.

Sylar snorted. "I was."

"You didn't have to be."

Sylar looked at him. "It's in our blood, Blake. In our very genes. We _have _to kill. There's no other option."

"Maybe not for you."

"So you're telling me that you haven't killed? Not even _once?_"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes. I know what it feels like. The desperate need for power. No one can ignore that for _nineteen years._"

Blake sighed. "You're right, Sylar. I _did _kill. Once." His eyes closed. "A long time ago. I wasn't proud of it, but it happened."

"Did she know?" Sylar asked, gesturing to Alyssa's body.

Blake smiled humorlessly. "How could she not?" His voice cracked. "It was her brother."

* * *

Sylar couldn't believe that _this _was _his _son.

Blake was carefully fixing his mother's body. He truly _cared._

The thought made Sylar sick. His son, something this _weak._

And yet…

"So. You can't heal?" He asked.

Blake laughed. "Don't even try it, Sylar. You take one step near me and I'll have you in a black hole before you could scream." His eyes narrowed. "I know how killers think, remember?"

Sylar sighed, knowing that Blake was right. He'd been hoping to take his son's ability right then and there. It would make things so much easier for him…

But he said nothing.

Blake walked to the other room to get his mother's brain. He swallowed, trying not to look at it as he placed it back in his mother's head.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "She's already dead, Blake. Just take her ability! It's not like it will make a difference!"

Blake glared at his father. "It makes a difference to me."

Sylar snorted.

Blake said nothing further.

Sylar sighed. "That's it. I'm out of here." He started to walk towards the door.

Blake didn't protest, so Sylar left.

* * *

It wasn't exactly a typical funeral.

For some reason, the sun had decided to shine on one of the worst days in Blake's life. He'd thought that the sun should be covered, that rain should pour on his head. But no, it was a clear and beautiful day.

There were only one or two people there who didn't have abilities, and those few knew about them. They knew that his mother could make people do whatever she wanted them to. They knew what Blake was capable of, and often kept their distance.

As the few people who didn't know about abilities left, those with them said goodbye in their own ways. Blake saw pictures of his mother created of both water and fire. He saw a storm over one person's head as he also decided that the weather wasn't appropriate for this day. Clara, an old friend of the family, was having a hard time keeping solid, trying not to merge with the shadows.

And, behind all that, a serial killer watched.

Blake sighed as he walked up to his father. "You don't seem like one for funerals. Especially if it was one of the people you killed."

Sylar sighed. "I knew you'd be here. I had to find you."

"Oh?" Blake raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Sylar glared at him. "Because, despite the fact that you're an _accident, _you _are _my son."

The corner of Blake's lip twitched upwards in a smile. "I'm touched by your concern."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Very funny."

Clara walked up to Blake, her eyes hard as she glared at Sylar. "You need anything, Blake?"

He shook his head. "No thanks, Clara. I have everything under control."

"What's _he_ doing here?" Adrian, the weather-controller, came up to Sylar, his face twisted with hate.

Sylar raised his hands slightly, surrendering. "I just came for Blake."

"Too bad!" Clara hissed. "His mother kept him away from you for a reason!"

Sylar glared at her. Blake stepped in between the two before an all-out war could start. "Enough. It's ok, Clara."

Clara glared at him. "Blake, your mom didn't want you anywhere near him!"

"I can handle myself." He gently placed his hand on her shoulder. "It'll be ok."

The others looked at him for a long time. Finally, Adrian nodded.

"Very well, Blake. But remember. We'll be watching."

He walked away. Clara melted into the shadows, and the others slowly went away, leaving Sylar and Blake alone.

Sylar sighed. "Look. I can't just leave you alone."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Why not? I'm nineteen. An adult. Old enough to take care of myself."

Sylar glared. "That's not what I mean. Have you ever heard of The Company?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Of course. They hardly know about me."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Sylar's eyes narrowed. "Look. Just… Just come with me. I want you to meet someone."

Blake looked at him. He seemed genuinely concerned.

Finally, he sighed. "Fine."

* * *

Claire Bennett sighed. It had been a few years since she'd stopped ageing, and it was somewhat strange to look in the mirror and know that this was exactly what she would look like in another hundred years.

Someone knocked on the door. She sighed again and walked over to it.

She opened it, her breath catching in her throat. "Sylar!" She breathed.

Sylar smiled. "Hello, Claire."

She glared at him, then noticed the other man, standing behind Sylar. "Who is he?"

The man smiled. "Oh, hi. I'm Blake."

She raised an eyebrow.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Can we come in?"

Claire's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"We just want to talk, Claire."

She sighed and opened the door wider to let them in. "Just make it quick." She snapped.

Blake looked at her, an apology in his eyes as he followed Sylar inside.

Sylar sat down, but Blake stayed standing. Sylar rolled his eyes and yanked his arm until he fell into the couch with an undignified '_oof.'_

Claire sighed. "Make yourself at home." She muttered sarcastically.

"Sorry." Blake apologized.

She raised an eyebrow as Sylar rolled his eyes again.

Claire sat down in front of them. "So. What do you want?"

Sylar swallowed. "There isn't exactly an easy way for me to say this, Claire, but Blake… Blake has my ability."

"Oh?"

Blake rolled his eyes. "Thank you so much for telling the world." He snorted. "I'm not exactly proud of it."

Claire looked at him for a long time. "I'm confused." She said at last.

Blake smiled. "Very well. Let me explain." He looked at Sylar. "I think I know why we're here."

Sylar sighed.

Blake looked back at Claire. "I'll make this as simple as I can." He pointed to Sylar. "I'm his son."

Claire's eyes widened, and Sylar glared at Blake.

"You didn't have to tell her _everything._" Sylar hissed.

Blake shrugged unapologetically. "You told her I had your ability."

Claire looked at Sylar. "I can't see you having a son."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "It was an accident."

Blake snorted. "Oh, thanks. You're real great confidence booster, dad."

Claire chuckled. "That is so _weird._ You're a _dad?_"

Sylar sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yes. I'm a _dad_, Claire. Get over it."

Claire laughed, and Blake grinned.

"That is… that's… I can't even…" Claire laughed again.

Blake smiled. "Tell me about it."

"All right, we've all had a laugh. Big deal, I'm a father." Sylar sighed. "It was bound to happen eventually."

Blake rolled his eyes. "You should have seen his face when he found out." He laughed. "Nineteen years, and he never had a clue!"

She smiled. "That's… amazing." Her smile stretched into a grin. "What about your mom?"

Blake's eyes darkened. "He killed her. Nineteen years after he met her."

Claire swallowed. "I'm… I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "She knew it would happen one day. If it wasn't me, it'd be him."

Claire looked genuinely upset. "I'm really sorry." She glared at Sylar. "That must suck."

Blake grinned. "Kind of. My dad kills my mom. Not the best start to a day…" His eyes glazed over as his thoughts drifted.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Look. We're here because he only has one ability. And he's got this whole, I'm-not-going-to-kill-anyone-because-it's-wrong-and-I'm-better-than-that-so-I'm-going-to-ignore-my-own-DNA thing going on, so I figured the first time should be someone who can't _die._"

Blake stood. "Forget it, Sylar. I'm not going to kill anyone, even someone like her."

But Claire shrugged. "It's ok, Blake. It's not like it hasn't happened to me before."

Blake shook his head. "It's not happening, Claire." He looked at her. "Thank you for your time, but we'll go now."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Come on, Blake! She's right there! She's not going to fight you; she doesn't even _care _if you take her ability! Why won't you just do it?"

Blake glared at his father. "Because that's the start, Sylar. You give into it once, and it's so much harder not to give into it again."

Sylar stared after Blake as he made his way to the door. "You can't be serious!"

Blake turned to face him once more. "I'm completely serious. I survived for nineteen years without her ability. I can survive the rest."

Sylar stared again, dumbfounded.

Suddenly, fury flashed in his eyes. He lifted his hand, throwing Claire into the wall.

"Would you listen to yourself?" Sylar spat. "You act like you're so much better than everyone else! Just take the ability already!"

Blake's fingers flexed. "Don't make me a murderer."

"It's not murder! _She can't die!_"

"I was talking about you." His eyes were hard. "I can kill you, Sylar. Despite everything, it's still possible."

Sylar swallowed.

"Now. Put her down, dad."

Sylar glared at him, but slowly lowered Claire to the floor. "You're making a big mistake." He hissed.

Blake walked over to Sylar. "I don't want to be immortal. I don't want her ability, and I don't want anyone else's." He turned and walked out of the room.

Sylar took a deep breath.

"Are you sure he's _your _son?" Claire asked.

Sylar rolled his eyes and followed Blake. He'd been asking himself the same question for a long time.

* * *

"Blake!"

Blake ignored Sylar as he kept walking.

"Blake!" Sylar came up next to him. "What is _wrong _with you?"

Blake laughed humorlessly. "You know, I should be asking you the same question."

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Look. Why won't you take her ability?"

Blake sighed. "Because that's how it started last time." He looked down. "With my uncle."

"The guy who created black holes?"

Blake snorted. "I prefer to think of them as actual people, Sylar. Not just abilities."

Sylar sighed. "Well, there's your first problem."

Blake rolled his eyes. "But, when I killed him, everything seemed so much worse. It never gets better, just worse, every time you kill." He sighed. "That's why I'm never going to do it again."

Sylar looked at him. "Look at you! You're _my _son! You're not some wimp, you're a _killer! _Don't you get that? You were _born _a murderer."

Blake whirled to face him, gripping his shoulders with hands like iron. "I am _not a murderer._ Understood?" His eyes narrowed.

"Yes, you _are._" Sylar replied.

"I'm _not!_" he snapped.

Sylar looked at his son for a long time. Finally, he sighed. "I just don't want you do die."

"Since when do you _care?_" He demanded. "You didn't even know I existed!"

"She made me promise!" Sylar hissed back. "And, for some unfathomable reason, I did!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Your mother! She made me promise to take care of you!"

"And you _agreed?_"

"I had no _choice!_" Sylar shot back. "She took away my will! I _have _to do it!"

Blake thought about that for a moment. Suddenly, he laughed. "So that's it. You're not worried about me. You're just trying to make sure I can't die, so you can get on with your life!"

"Exactly!" Sylar said, rolling his eyes. "Do you really think I'd want to make sure you were ok simply because you were my _son?_"

Blake swallowed. "Actually, I didn't expect anything."

Sylar sighed and pulled out a knife that he'd snatched from Claire's kitchen, handing it to Blake. "Just take her ability. Or mine! I don't _care!_ I just want you out of my life!"

Blake snatched the knife from Sylar's hands. He turned it over in his hands for a moment, then dropped it, a smile on his face. "No."

"What do you mean _no?_"

"I mean I'm not going to do it. You can keep your ability."

"You _have to!_"

Blake grinned. "No, dad. I don't _have _to do anything. _You're _the one who _has _to do something." He laughed. "Now, you have to stick around. Maybe some of the stuff my mom's taught me will rub off on you."

"I don't believe this…" Sylar swore.

But Blake kept smiling. "You're going to have to stick around and watch my every move. You _have _to."

Sylar swore again, repeatedly. "This is bullshit… Why can't you just take the _ability?_"

But Blake was still laughing. "Father and son time…" He chuckled.

Sylar's hand sparkled, but there was nothing he could do. Alyssa's dying words had been a command, a command he couldn't ignore.

Whatever happened, he was stuck with his son.


	2. Family Reunion

"Oh, stop being such a baby."

"You're one to talk!" Sylar retorted.

Blake rolled his eyes. "Come on."

"No!"

Blake grinned, walking up to the door and knocking once.

Sylar muttered something under his breath that Blake was sure wasn't meant for polite company.

The door opened. "Hello?"

Blake smiled. "Hi, Peter."

Peter broke into a grin. "Blake!"

His expression changed as he saw Sylar behind him. Peter's hand sparkled with electricity. "What's _he _doing here?"

Blake gently lowered Peter's hand. "It's all right, Peter. He's with me."

"You realize this man is a killer, right?" Peter demanded.

Blake nodded. "He is a killer, but… he's my father."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "What?" The electricity intensified.

Blake raised his hands. "Hear me out, Peter. A few days ago, he killed my mother. But not before she forced a command into his mind." Blake smiled. "A command to protect me."

Peter raised an eyebrow. Slowly, the smile crept back on his face. "So he can't leave?"

Blake shook his head. "No."

"And he can't hurt anyone else?"

"He's too afraid of black holes for that."

Finally, Peter was all-out grinning. "That's…" He laughed. "That's brilliant."

Blake nodded, and Sylar swore.

"Anyway, since I'm getting quality father-son time, I thought the same should happen for him." Blake grinned as he continued. "That's why I'm here. I need you to send us back in time a few years. Before Sampson Gray died."

Sylar was shaking his head, panic flashing in his eyes. "No. No. No. No. No."

But Blake and Peter ignored him. Peter nodded as he thought about Blake's request. "I think I could manage that."

Blake grinned. "Thank you."

Peter nodded and placed a hand on Blake's and Sylar's shoulders. Sylar was protesting loudly, but there was really nothing he could do.

And then, they were somewhere else.

* * *

Peter had gone back, telling them he'd be there tomorrow to take them back. Sylar had desperately wanted to go with Peter, to get away from _here_, but he couldn't. He was meant to protect his son, and this was about as dangerous as it got.

Muttering something under his breath, Sylar followed Blake as he walked over to the house that was forever burned into his memory.

Blake knocked on the door, which swung open as he did so.

Sylar tried to stay outside as Blake entered the house, but Alyssa's command took control, forcing his legs to move. In terms of dangerous situations, Sylar knew from experience that this could definitely be one of them.

"Hello?" Blake called.

A cough.

Sylar cringed. "This isn't a good idea, Blake."

Blake rolled his eyes and continued. "What's the worst that can happen? You can't die. I create black holes. And, from what I've heard, this guy's got cancer." He snorted. "He can't exactly hurt us."

Sylar wished he could agree on that, because if that was the case, he could leave. Unfortunately, he was forced to follow his son into the next room.

And there he was.

A wave of bile welled up in Sylar's throat. Sampson Gray looked exactly like he had the last time; pale and sick. His face was white, his eyes hollow.

Sylar turned away.

"Who are you?" Sampson asked. His eyes widened as they landed on Sylar. "Gabriel? What are you doing here?"

"My name is _Sylar._" He hissed, venom tainting his words.

Sampson swallowed.

"Sampson Gray?" Blake asked.

His eyes narrowed. "Who wants to know?"

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Yes, Blake, it's him. Can we go now?"

Blake smiled, extending a hand. "I'm Blake."

Sampson raised an eyebrow.

Blake sighed, placing his hand back at his side as he realized that Sampson wasn't going to accept it. "I'm your grandson."

Sampson looked at him for a long time. The silence went on uncomfortably, broken only when Sampson coughed once or twice.

Finally, he sighed and spoke. "Ability?"

"Same as yours."

Sampson nodded slowly. "From the future, I take it."

Blake nodded.

Sylar glared at his son. "I hate you." He hissed.

Blake rolled his eyes. "So you keep saying, dad."

Sylar snarled, not knowing exactly how to respond.

Sampson eyed the exchange thoughtfully. "You don't get along very well." He noted.

"Acute observation." Sylar retorted.

Blake sighed. "Ignore him. He doesn't know anything about manners."

Electricity danced on Sylar's hands.

"Rule one. Don't kill people at the dinner table." Blake muttered. "It's very rude."

Sylar rolled his eyes, stopping the electricity. It wasn't as though he could hurt Blake.

"He was an accident." Sylar explained to his father. "I didn't even know he existed until a few days ago."

Sampson raised an eyebrow. "And yet, you're here with him. Why?"

"Blame my mom." Blake replied for Sylar. "She could make you do anything she wanted. So, she told him to take care of me; make sure I didn't get hurt." Blake grinned. "So he's stuck with me."

Sampson laughed, a deep, raspy laugh that ended in a cough. "Makes sense." His smile stretched into a grin.

Sylar rolled his eyes. "Can we leave _now?_"

Blake looked at him. "Sylar, we're not going to leave for a while. So shut up and deal with it."

Sylar pulled his son aside. "Blake, this man killed my mother. I'm not _staying here!_"

Blake smiled. "The irony of that statement doesn't escape me in the slightest."

Sylar looked like he would reply, then clamped his mouth shut. He hadn't realized. His father had killed his mother, and now Sylar had done the same.

For a moment, Sylar almost felt guilty, but he pushed it aside, choosing instead to be furious at his son. "Blake, I'm sorry, all right? Is that what you want to hear?"

"No. What I want to hear is you and Sampson talk. Proper father and son time." He grinned, and Sylar would have punched his lights out if Alyssa's command wasn't holding him back.

Blake motioned to a chair, and Sylar sat down, irritated.

"Well!" Blake exclaimed. "The perfect Family Reunion!"

Father and son looked at him like he'd lost his mind.


End file.
